And a song someone sings...

So Travis has gotten himself sick.
I'm learning that it really doesn't take much, but this time I have some lemon juice and honey to help fight it off for him. This is sort of an unusually calm post for me, I think. I just came upstairs from laying down next to him, petting his hair until he drifted off to sleep. I had successfully forgotten how happy it makes me to cradle someone until they drift to sleep. My hormones are doing a number on me again as I remember holding Anthony as a tiny baby and how it felt to fall asleep with him laying on my chest. I was exhausted and hungry and at least a little stressed, but somehow laying there, I was perfectly at peace. Even holding some of the babies I had bonded with less than him I relaxed in a way I didn't really understand. It kills me to be as anti-breeding as I am. I know logically that I'm in no way prepared for the responsibility. I know how much I enjoy the freedom I have in my current life. I know that when everything is said and done, I couldn't have Travis' kid. Not because of a physical problem, although the genetic issues would more than likely come up, but because he's even less ready than I am.
I feel so stupid writing all of this out.
I'm never going to be ready with someone who I feel is ready as well... I know too much about babies to ever think that I'm ready for that responsibility.
Murfle...
I think I should really just go to bed before I rethink this whole post and just close the window instead of posting it. But that's the point of a blog/journal right? To get those silly and crazy thoughts out of my head while I still can...
Someday, I'm going to have someone I don't want to read this find this post and it will bite me in the ass. Until then though, there are maybe three people who know that it exists?
Life was easier when I could solve it with mutilation... that is all...
Naomi Marie...